


Erosion

by AbsolXGuardian



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate POV, Canon-Typical Violence, Creative Usage of the Force, Depicted Character Death, Gen, How Grogu was saved from the Jedi Temple, Inquisitorius Origins, Jedi Temple Guards Worldbuilding, Jedi worldbuilding, Mandalorian prequel, Minor Character Death, Nikto Culture Worldbuilding, Rise of the Empire Era, Troposverse, canon character death, canon-typical child murder, canon-typical genocide, fall of the jedi order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28557537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsolXGuardian/pseuds/AbsolXGuardian
Summary: Grogu had been at the Jedi Temple for a few decades, always an Initiate too young to train. On the night the Jedi Temple fell, he only survived thanks to Moira Dovhain, a conflicted Temple Guard-in-training.Part of PermianExtinction's Troposverse.
Relationships: Armitage Hux's Mother | Moira Dovhain (OC) & Grogu | The Child
Kudos: 3





	1. Disintegration

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Empire Needs Children](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7843036) by [PermianExtinction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PermianExtinction/pseuds/PermianExtinction). 



> Welcome to the Troposverse EU. This fic uses PermianExtinction’s Moira, an OC from their fic The Empire Needs Children. I wrote this with their input and a lot of this is based on discussions about Moira’s backstory we’ve had in discord. Although the idea of Moira saving Grogu is entirely my idea. The end notes go into more detail regarding Troposverse canon.
> 
> I wish Tom Kane a speedy and successful recovery as possible.

Padawan-Sentinel Moira Dovhain crouched on top of the plinth of the statue of one of the Sage Masters that flanked the grand entrance. Shrouded by shadow, she looked down at the marching clone troopers with a hooded figure at their head. The clones’ intention was clear in the Force, it was one of malice, even if it was run through with some kind of chains. And the leader, whoever they were, had fallen to the Dark Side. 

Her master, Tirul Numon, second in command of the Jedi Temple Guards; had mysteriously summoned all of the Temple Guards- the off duty sentinels and the masked on-duty guards with their borrowed lightsabers both- to a building in the Works earlier that evening. Master Numon didn't say why, but Moira had a dread instinct that had something to do with what she had sensed a week ago. 

Moira had been meditating on Coruscant's Force signature, as part of a personal project to study the ancient Sith shrine the Jedi Temple had been built above. The Council wouldn't let her physically investigate it, after the excavation she managed to goad the security corps into conducting led to disaster. But as she meditated, it was like she had adjusted a holocom to the perfect wavelength. Finally differentiable from the dark side energies of the shrine was the Force signature of a what could only be a collection of powerful Sith artifacts located in the Grand Republic Medical Facility. Logically, it made the most sense for them to belong to Darth Sidious. The Guards knew that Darth Sidious was someone in the Republic Senate, but now they had somewhere to lay a trap. 

She had found what the Council couldn’t even find, because she had tried her own approach, by looking into the edges of what research was permitted. It was her natural talent at Force Scrying and unconventional way of approaching problems that caused Numon to choose her (as well as all the time she spent breaking into places she wasn’t allowed as a youngling) when her personality was otherwise unsuitable. She would be a hero.

Except that wasn't what happened. Numon nodded solemnly as Moira told him the news, and replied he would be investigating the site alone. She wasn't to tell any other guard, not even Master Drallig. And if she could keep that secret, he could continue to keep her secret about what happened to that family in the lower levels and she would remain free of the Citadel. The Pau'an Jedi never broached the topic again.

An on-duty Temple Guard stepped out of the shadows, his saber at his belt and his stance relaxed. So, someone else had disobeyed Numon's order. Not even Jedi were supposed to be able to tell Sentinels apart when they wore the mask, but the guards knew their own through the Force. This was Kyrian Nyth, of course it was Kyrian. A rival to Numon for the position of Drallig's right hand. He wondered were his shiftmate was, and suspected that Numon was to blame, but otherwise had no idea anything was amiss. Numon must not have told Kyrian, guessing that Kyrian wouldn't take Numon's word that the order came from Drallig and would try to confirm it himself, so Moira's master left him in the dark.

The leader continued forward, but as they passed Kyrian, struck out. They ignited their blue lightsaber, spearing the guard in a single motion. Likely too absorbed in his own frustrations to sense their malice in time, Kyrian died with his lightsaber still on his belt. 

Moira silenced her own gasp with her hand, as the fallen Jedi continued into the Temple, unflinching, followed by close to a hundred clones. As soon as they passed, Moira jumped off the plinth, silencing her landing with the Force. The clones couldn't sense a Jedi using the Force, and their leader- well she wasn't even trying to sense them and their own emotional turmoil struck her like a deluge. She wouldn't need to hide her own fear from the scrying of others.

And she was a Temple Guard. Somehow, Numon was in league with Darth Sidious, just like the Jedi that killed Kyrian. He had lured the guards away to leave the Temple vulnerable to attack, but she was still here.

She sprinted over to the wall of the main Temple complex and used the Force to remove the external cover of the ventilation system. She made sure she carefully set it down, before Force Jumping into the vents she and Loo-Ti had once used to get into trouble as younglings. 

* * *

She was no Temple Guard.

The clones’ leader- it was Anakin Skywalker. Everything swirled within Moira’s head as she watched Skywalker, his cloak now discarded, turned and jabbed as he fought Drallig and two Padawans. Skywalker- the Jedi who saved Naboo, the Hero With No Fear.

Even though she didn’t hear the strain of manipulated metal, it felt as if the vent tightened around Moira as she watched Anakin fight. It was clear that even three against one, the defenders had no chance of winning. This was nothing except for a last stand based on principles. 

But perhaps, if Moira could unclench her hands from the bars of the grate and join them, it could actually matter. She could draw upon all of her power, the abilities and emotions the Jedi below her still blocked themselves from as they fought for their lives. Surely they were afraid as she was now, even if her fear could manifest only as cowardice.

What was Drallig thinking, she wondered. Did he imagine the Temple Guards scattered across the temple, fighting the clones? Or was he aware that himself and Kyrian were the only ones? Did he think them all traitors? Or simply cowards, like her? 

Soon, the battle ended, and Anakin continued his slaughter. 

Moira's body finally permitted her to relax her grip, and she collapsed the best she could inside the cramped vent as it expanded with her relief. Now what? She'd already learned that she lacked the courage to actually fulfill her duty. What she should do would be to reverse her path and head into the deepest inhabited levels of Coruscant. Down there, it is as if one is as far away from the surface as one is in the Outer Rim. But she couldn't bring herself to do that either. There had to be something she could do, some small difference she could make, that wouldn't involve her fighting Skywalker.

So she once again followed her instincts as they led her through the ventilation system of the Jedi temple.

* * *

Moira looked through another grate and saw another all too familiar sight, the corpses of Jedi- usually that of Initiates and Temple staff she knew personally. But as she was about to continue, she stopped. Something was different. Moira reached out with her senses, not feeling the presence of any clones, just the echoes of the deaths of her fellow Jedi. She was about to close the connection to avoid being overwhelmed, when she noticed something amiss. Not all the Jedi scattered below her were dead. 

Moira carefully lifted the vent onto the floor and jumped onto the ground. The scattered corpses were mostly that of Jedi Initiates, too young to even have their lightsabers. A few carried younglings too young to walk, not even they were spared. 

The only adult among them was the Devorian Caretaker Daan Evasu. Caretakers were responsible for taking care of younglings too young to begin any kind of training and who required near constant supervision. Moira and Loo-Ti came to the Temple relatively old, so they were never under his care. But Caretakers often ended up supervising the Initiates in clans as well. 

What made Evasu special was that he had a natural talent for disguising his presence in the Force. And when that power was used to its full extent, it could be used to pause your heartbeat and breathing, hiding you from regular lifeform sensors as well- although also putting you into a kind of hibernation. Anyone other than Moira would have missed him, and even if he was ignored, he'd be unlikely to survive in stasis for long while wounded.

"Caretaker Evasu," Moira whispered, shaking him. "It's okay, the clones have gone. You're safe."

Even though she knew what would happen, Moira was still surprised when what felt like a corpse to her hands began to breathe slightly. "Oh, Sentinel Moira," he rasped, recognizing her as an off-duty guard by her robes and lack of mask. "The devastation. The clones- they're even killing the younglings."

"I know, please, save your strength. You're injured-" Moira tried to help Evasu up by his back.

"I won't be going anywhere," Evasu replied, grasping Moira’s forearm with one hand. "My fate has already been cast. But there is someone you can save." He shifted his robes with his other hand to reveal a slumbering big-eared green youngling. 

A favorite of anyone who had been a youngling in the past twenty years, Moira recognized Grogu. He was a member of Yoda's species, perpetually stuck as a pre-clan Initiate. Because of this, he had become close to Evasu, who rarely spent more than a year with a youngling before they were placed into clans and passed between instructors. Evasu must have taught him the same Force Conceal trick, likely on a whim. 

"Grogu," he said, bringing the infant in front of him "You did amazing, the bad people are gone and-" Evasu was interrupted by a coughing fit as Grogu began to stir from his slumber. The Caretaker was right. The only thing keeping him alive was his manipulation of the Force to keep him inside his body. "I'm going to give you to Moira. She's going to take care of you."

Grogu, who was likely unable to comprehend the severity of this situation, turned around to look up at his new caretaker. This was a shock, but Moira had wanted to make some difference. Saving the youngling certainly would be it.

With a solemn nod to Evasu, Moira released his arm and picked up Grogu. She hugged the child to her breast, so he couldn't see the life truly leave Evasu’s body as they walked away.

* * *

Moira hopped down from the vents into the Hall of Gifts. If she and Grogu were going to escape, they'd need money. She didn't want to risk introducing possibly dangerous artifacts into the wider galaxy, not to mention the attention they would attract, so that disqualified places like the Bogan Collection, the Holocron Vault, the Old Armories, or the Lightsaber Crypts. Not to mention that those places had actual security.

Which left here. While the Hall of Gifts would be the star of any other museum's collection, it had no special security. It mostly consisted of artifacts and honors from other planets, freely given, for the service of individual Jedi. 

Moira placed a still groggy Grogu on the floor and tried to calm herself. She needed to choose wisely.

 _Perfect._ On the other side of the hall was a mannequin wearing robes in the style of the High Republic. Probably some kind of exhibit Jocasta Nu set up for the younglings. But the important part was that it wore a large shoulder bag.

She grabbed the bag and slung it over her own shoulder and began stuffing with whatever artifacts looked to be made of the most valuable material. She tried to take advantage of the labels, but she had no time to play the entire holo-presentations, and she lacked the knowledge to glean too much from the titles.

But she was able to figure out that what seemed like an ornate flower made from patterned metal was actually a beskar trophy given to those on the winning side of the Mandalorian Civil Wars, and was likely the most valuable item in the hall, melted down. And that the kalikori belonging to a Twi'lek Jedi who was the last of her clan would only be of interest to a museum.

Moira wasn't able to keep her calm for long, as she frantically stuffed what she could into the bag, not caring if she knocked the rest over. She used the Force to shatter the glass of a medal cabinet and pulled all of those trinkets to her. She began to twist beautiful sculptures into more compact shapes using the Force. She wouldn't be able to sell these to for their artistry, unless some crime lords suddenly developed better taste.

She was breathing heavily when she finally had to admit that the bulging bag was full to capacity. "Alright, that's enough," she promised herself. Moira glanced down at Grogu, who had picked up a pink shimmerglass orb the size of his palm. It must have fallen from one of the artifacts. 

"Come now, Grogu," she said, as she picked up the youngling. Moira had expected Grogu to drop the orb, but instead he was mesmerized by it. At least it gave him something to focus on. She had no idea how much of the situation he understood. He thankfully wasn't bawling like she assumed infants who just lost their homes would do, but he still shielded his impression in the Force. 

Moira walked over to the vent, as Grogu snuggled into the sleeve of the arm she was using to hold him. _Sod_ , with the extra girth from the bag, she wouldn't be able to fit in the vents now. And there was no way under a sun she was going to leave the Jedi Temple using a door.

Oh right, she could just push the bag in front of her. The fear was clouding her mind, she couldn't let that happen again. Kind of awkwardly, she placed Grogu on a now empty plinth as his big eyes stared up at her. Moira used the Force to levitate the bag into the vents, and then shift it a bit ahead.

Next, she grabbed Grogu, grasped him tight to her chest once more, and went back into the vent.

* * *

Moira levitated the bag to the ground of the Jedi shipyard, before following herself. She reached out with the Force, and quickly ducked behind the corner of the wall she exited from. She pulled the bag to her with her foot, before maneuvering it onto her shoulder while also trying not to drop Grogu.

Alright, so there were three clones guarding the ship pool. Even if she managed to sneak past them, they'd report the ship she used and she'd never make it out of Coruscant space. If she used her lightsaber, it would be impossible to take out all three before one of them could call it in. 

That only left a single possibility. Moira had already convinced herself that, of course, she was allowed to use it. Yet, it still didn't feel right. But what other choice did she have?

Moira closed her eyes and reached out with her free hand. She drew upon her fear, her shame at not being able to help Dralig, her rage at Numon for betraying the Order- for using her like that. She formed those emotions into three spectral hands that snaked across the shipyard and seized each of the clones by their necks. As she squeezed and lifted them into the air, she thought of the devastation she had witnessed inside the Jedi Temple- her people swept away by the blaster blots of clones. _That would not happen to her._

There was a crack as the necks of the three clones broke under her power. Their bodies clattered to the ground. Moira gasped, her heart beating in her ears and her trance broken. There wasn't any time to waste.

She dashed across the shipyard to the only shuttle that wasn't custom made for the Order. It was a YT-1000 freighter, the ancient and beloved ship of Numon's old friend Master Kostana. And also what Numon used whenever he had his own off planet missions, so Moira knew the entrance code. She input the code, and the few seconds it took the ramp to extend felt like an eternity. When she finally made it into the ship, she was so restless she threw her bag onto the couches of the central crew area just so she could do something.

Moira still cradled Grogu in the crock of her arm as she rushed into the cockpit. She did her best to gently set him down in the co-pilot's seat, now that her use of the Dark Side had destroyed her ability to stay calm.

"No, I can do this," she told herself as she sat down in the pilot's seat and took a deep breath. Now which one turned the ship on? Right, the lever up near the top of the control panel was standard. Moira pulled down on the lever and felt the rumble of the engines beneath her as various auxiliary lights she hoped she didn't need to understand lit up. 

Moira glanced at the central screen, which said that the ship would be ready for flight in a minute. She had no idea what kind of pre-flight checks she was supposed to do, and hoped that whoever was responsible for maintenance in the Temple shipyard made sure the _Truthseeker II_ got its upkeep. 

A charming burble from Grogu broke Moira out of her worries. Throughout everything, he'd kept the shimmerglass orb, and had begun to put it in his mouth.

"No you don't," Moira snatched the ball away from Grogu, "I don't think you're supposed to put these in your mouth, and I don't want you swallowing them."

Grogu looked up at Moira with his big eyes, and seemed like he was about to cry- taking his ball away seemed to be the last straw. "No, no don't cry," she panicked. Moira could deal with anything but that. "Here, have it back. If you choke on it, I can just use the Force to get it out."

She handed the orb back to youngling, who accepted it eagerly, his momentary stress forgotten.

Moira drummed her fingers on the console as she willed the progress bar on the display to speed up. There was something else she was forgetting- oh the transponder codes. The _Truthseeker_ was registered to Master Kostana, and when Coruscant Space Control scanned her leaving, that was supposed to come up. But she remembered Numon explaining that Kostana wouldn't be deterred from her belief that Dark Side artifacts couldn't remain unaccounted for by the fact that not every planet welcomed Jedi. So Kostana had modified her ship so it could switch between being the _Truthseeker II_ and a ship belonging to an academic friend of hers- something like that.

She opened the central drawer of the console and was relieved to find what looked like the piece of another ship's console and two flimsiplast printouts of Bureau of Ships and Services database entries, one for the _Truthseeker II_ and another for the _Basilius_. The other ship belonged to a Nikoli Barain.

Moira grabbed the hunk of plastoid and scanned the console, looking for something similar. There it was, a similar protrusion under the console next to the central support structure. Unfortunately it was on the co-pilot's side, which necessitated Moira awkwardly reaching over to switch the transponders. Thankfully, it seemed to be a simple process of sliding one off and sliding on the other. 

She breathed a sigh of relief when Moira managed to pull herself back into her chair and saw that the _Basilius'_ transponder thingie remained in place. A few moments later, the ship beeped to let her know that she was ready to take off.

* * *

Unseen by any watchers that night was a young man, invisible in the Force. He saw a young Jedi in white robes rush across the shipyard and take off in a light freighter. Because he remained loyal to the Jedi, even after Palpatine declared himself Emperor, he never told anyone. But he never made a connection between that Jedi and the woman he would one day love.

* * *

Moira jumped in her chair when the console began beeping. She pushed the flashing button, which should be the accept transmission button.

" _This is Admiral Yularen_ ," a commanding voice said through the _Truthseeker's_ tinny speakers. _"Are you aware of what is transpiring_?"

Moira let go of the yoke so her shaking hands wouldn't move the ship and tried her hardest to keep her fear out of her voice. "Well, the Jedi Temple is on fire, and something is happening there. But that's no reason for me to delay my excavation again. Unless the Supreme Chancellor gave a speech I missed?"

 _"Well, he hasn't said anything publicly."_ It seemed like Moira's confidence had caught this Yularen off guard. " _I'm sorry ma'am, could you turn on your transponder?_ "

"Oh of course sir," Moira said, hoping she pressed the right button. "Sorry I forgot. Piloting isn't really my thing."

" _We see you_ Basilius. _Still, in light of recent events, it may not be wise for you to leave Coruscant-"_

"Why not? There's no battle this time. And sure, something is happening to the Jedi, but that doesn't mean Coruscant transit laws or Republic xenoarchaeology laws have suddenly changed. All my datawork is in order. I don't have any cargo to declare except for archeological equipment for personal use. It might be slow, since they don't really have a protocol for these kind of requests from the military but ask the University of Bar'leth and they'll confirm that Nikoli Barain has been approved for an expedition to Ontotho." Moira hoped that Yularen wouldn't call her bluff, or that there wasn’t some glaring error in the information she was desperately trying to dredge from her memory.

" _You make a good case, Barain. I suppose I don't actually have any explicit orders- I'm sorry. Your transponder has suddenly stopped transmitting. Could you fix that? I'm sure you know this, but transponders must remain open during all interactions with representatives of the Republic._ "

Moira glanced over, the swapped transmitter had remained in place. She knew that the base serial code for a transponder was actually written on the engines of a ship, so whatever setup Kostana had must replace that information with whatever was in the thingie. The part obviously wasn't meant to be switched. Still what was the problem? 

Of course, the wires. Maybe Kostana intended the codes to be switched using tools, but Moira had just slotted it in there. The wires had been touching when she began, but one of them must have disconnected.

Somehow, Moira suddenly thought about how the lock to the Holocron Vault worked. One element was an artifact that recognized Jedi Masters using the Force, but another element was a simple electronic lock. However, no key had ever been made. Instead, the circuit was closed through the Force. Perhaps, even if the electronics weren't specifically designed that way, she could do that here.

Moira placed her hand on the console and reached on, not really sensing anything. No, she had to be creative. Not look for life, but look for motion. That shift in thought was like changing the mode on a pair of binocs, as she could soon sense the electric currents running through the circuitry of the _Truthseeker_ , like blood in an organism (or more accurately, nerve signals). She focused on what she knew as the physical location of the transponder relay, as otherwise she'd be consumed trying to decode what she saw or start closing circuits that should be open. 

She found the place where a cycle was broken, leaving that entire branch of the circuit dead. Most of the circuits in the relay were complete, the copper feelers of the stripped wires being smashed into each other forming a sufficient connection. But there was one broken one. She lifted the tentacle and held it in place, the feelers wrapping around each other as the electrons were finally free to flow. 

"Is that good?" Moira forced out, trying not to let her concentration break. "Sorry- sorry about that. You know, old ships."

" _I understand_ ," the Admiral replied. " _You're good to go. Hopefully the war will be over soon and we won't have to interfere in each others' affairs anymore._ "

"We can only hope," Moira shut off the connection and then her body flopped, the same way the wires she had been holding together had done. While the use of the Dark Side had energized her, that trick had exhausted her. The shaking in Moira's hands were gone as she wrenched her head back up and took the ship's yoke again, flying past the distant Venator towards Coruscant's jump point.

"Well looks like we made it," Moira commented to Grogu, "Now we just need to find somewhere to go."

* * *

Moira carefully navigated the _Truthseeker II_ onto a cobbled together metal landing platform that jutted out from the ground in front of an adobe encampment. A sandstorm raged, ruining her visibility. But all she needed to do was land, and it wasn't like she needed to be going anywhere else any time soon, if things went well.

This was Arvala-7, a planet so anonymous it didn't have its own name. Unlike all of the other planet Numon had brought her to, this wasn't a site of mytho-historical interest. It was an abandoned mining colony and part of the Jawa scavenger network, and that was all the navicomputers said about it. What they didn't include was what Numon had found when they were forced to stop here for emergency repairs- a clan of red Nikto who had escaped enslavement in Hutt Space. They were as interested in secrecy as Moira now was, and as Nikto who followed the old ways, would accept a lifegeld. 

If only the weather wasn't so bad. 

Moira could hear the landing pad buckle, but it held. After she was pretty sure she turned off the ship, she stood up and picked up Grogu, waking him from his slumber.

"I know, you're tired and hungry," Moira replied to his grumbling as she walked to the central crew area, "I'm sorry that ration bars weren't good enough for you." 

Moira grabbed her bag and swung in on her shoulder. Then she put on her hood. It was tighter than that of standard Jedi robes, but at least it would provide some protection from the sand.

"Brace yourself, little one," Moira said, as she opened the door of the ship. Grogu took one look at the outside through the lowering ramp and turned his face into Moira's body. 

The several feet from the landing pad to the entrance of the particle-shielded encampment was tedious to navigate. Moira had no trouble walking with her eyes closed, and below her was solid stone. But she had to travel against the winds as the sands tried to erode her. 

She finally reached the gate of the encampment. She pressed an intercom button, hoping it worked. "I am a traveler seeking shelter," she rasped out.

For a brief moment, Moira was no longer on Arvala. Instead of sand cutting across her, it was heavy rain pounding down upon her as she sought succor. The child she held to her breast was larger. But then it was gone. 

"Come in, you fool," Moira heard a female Nikto from just inside the encampment call, as she briefly deactivated the shield. 

Moira stumbled in, still a bit dazed from the vision that was quickly fading from her memory. As soon as she was inside, the shield was reengaged, finally sparing her from the wind.

The Nikto looked Moira up and down, her disdain clear. "Follow me, the Elder wants to see you. You must have a good story."

* * *

Moira expected the Nikto to lead her to a throne room, but the central building of the encampment was a feast hall. Set partially within the ground, the room was relatively cool. The Nikto didn't use traditional tables and chairs, instead sitting in various groups around mats laden with food. Moira had encountered other cultures with similar standards for dining, but typically meals were plush affairs with pillows. These Nikto were more austere. If you wanted support, you either leaned against a wall or a crate. She also didn't see an obvious leader, neither in the center or at the head of the arrangement.

The Nikto led Moira to a dining group of two, with an obvious gap for her to sit. As her guide navigated the dining hall, Moira could tell that the eyes of the group were upon her, and all conversations had turned to her.

"You and your foundling may eat and drink your fill," The Nikto indicated for Moira to sit, "I shall fetch the chief."

Moira sat down by the rug, and as soon as she placed Grogu on the ground, she was handed a clay cup of water by one of the Nikto sitting at that same mat. The other Nikto got a bowl of broth from a neighboring mat and gave it to Grogu. As Moira made small talk with her mealmates about what kind of food was available (she was given a spiced mix of greens and meat next), she noted that the volume of conversation in the hall had decreased. All the better to take stock of the newcomer, of course. 

When the Elder arrived, he wasn't wearing any finery. He only stood out because of the aged desaturation of his skin and the collection of scars that marred his face. Moira hastily stood in greeting and took her hood off, although the rest of the clan remained seated.

"I am Kinovan Var," he told Moira. "I am the Elder of the Kajain'neo'tah Clan."

All conversation in the feast hall had stopped, but Moira suspected that Kinovan wanted this to occur publicly, in front of the entire clan. So they were supposed to be an audience. "I am Moira Dovhain, this is my charge Grogu," she gestured to the youngling, who was still sipping his soup.

"You are the niece of the Pau'an who came here for repairs, are you not? I recognize your ship."

"That isn't entirely correct. Actually, we were Jedi, and he was my Master. However, the Clone Wars have turned against the Order and-"

"We're not letting them bring their damn war here!" A Nikto suddenly stood up and shouted.

"Sit down, Nim," Kinovan replied, as serene as ever, "let her state her case. She is our guest."

"Thank you, sir," Moira continued, "There- there was a-” She composed herself again, “An attack on the Jedi Temple. We’ve been….scattered.”

“Nim may have spoken out of turn,” Kinovan replied, “But he is right. We’ve been lucky enough to avoid your war for this long. We don’t want to bring the Separatists here or become a staging ground for your revenge.”

“That won’t happen. I’m ready to leave the Order behind, and I know I wasn't followed. In addition, I believe I am able to pay the lifegeld for myself and Grogu." Moira hoped she remembered Numon’s fun facts about traditional Nikto culture correctly.

Kinovan raised an eyebrow.

Moira responded by taking her bag and upturning it onto the floor. The assortment of objects she took from the Temple clattered onto the ground, to the gasps of several of the audience.

"That should be more than enough," Kinovan replied, "If there are no objections?"

Nim raised his hand for a moment, but then decided against it. 

"Well then," Kinovan said to Moira and Grogu, "Welcome to the clan."


	2. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira has been living with the Nikto on Arvala for months now, but the planet has continued to wear away at her. As a Jedi, she must remain in exile under the Empire's rule, but she doesn't know how much longer she can take it.

"Two Grovin snus is my final offer for the hoverpram," Moira told the Offworld Jawa she was dealing with. It had been a few months since she and Grogu had made their home on Arvala-7 with the Nikto. She'd cut her Padawan braid with a common knife and let her hair grow out to her jaw. Her thick Jedi robes had been reused for their fabric by another member of the clan, and she now wore the typical loose linen garb of soft skinned desert dwellers in brown and orange over wide linen pants, all under a leather belt with many pouches.

" _Item is big_ ," the Jawa replied in the limited vocabulary of Trade. " _No deal._ "

"And broken. I'm not selling it for scrap. Hoverprams don't have doomium cores or something. They're made from common materials. However your society works, I know that the people above you want old mining equipment. Trading to the clan is a side gig. You think they'd spend the fuel to get it off-planet?"

" _No deal,_ " they continued to assert.

Moira sighed. She'd been standing out in the heat in front of the Sandcrawler for over an hour, haggling about just how much of the clan's hydroponics-grown vert-root and moisture-farmed water was worth how much of the spare parts the clan needed for various repairs. Then she saw a group of scavengers bring in their own haul, including a broken hoverpram. Moira had no idea why one of the several other abandoned mining camps on Arvala would have one, it was the kind of technology that was typical in the Core and a rare luxury in the Outer Rim. But here one was, and it would relieve a lot of the hassle involved in keeping an eye on Grogu. But she had already spent all of the supplies she had been given to trade, so all she had left were the handful of small animals she had hunted on her way there. Which the clan likewise expected her to bring back. 

"Listen here," Moira growled, making a point of grabbing the lightsaber hilt she still openly wore on her belt. "Really, you should be paying me to take this hunk off junk of you. Because we're gonna need repulsorlifts to get the pram working again. Maybe even a Beckon call set. And you're the only ones who can provide that. And those are items much more valuable than some dead hoverpram. Maybe I'll even have to get the Mudhorn egg you're so desperate for."

" _Deal, deal,_ " the Jawa begged, clearly more convinced by the weapon Moira seemed about to draw than what she saw as a highly logical argument.

"I'm glad you see it my way." Moria took two dead Grovin snu lizards from a pack on her belt and threw them on the ground. The Jawa she had been trading with scrambled to pick them up, before shouting orders (in proper Jawaese) at the pair who were currently trying to roll the pram into the sandcrawler.

In response, the Jawa reversed direction and sent the pram careening down the ramp before trying to push it across the ground to where Moira's lev-loader was attached to her bluurg. She watched them struggle as they rolled it across the rocky ground, but with a few feet to go and then the task of getting it onto a cart whose rim stood taller than them left, she sighed. Reaching out with both hands, she levitated the pram instead. She dropped it into the cart, where it buckled for a moment, disrupting her blurrg before the lifts readjusted. 

Moira had used the Force in front of the Jawas a few times. The HoloNet was spotty out here, from the newscasts they got, Empire had yet to reach anywhere Jawas found themselves. Still, such a sight prompted all the Jawas to stop whatever they were working on and gaze in awe for a few moments.

Moira ignored them as they slowly returned to their work. Instead she focused on her blurrg, restless from having to wait for so long tethered to a cart. She mounted the creature, touched its neck, and reached out with her mind. Animal kinship- two minds, one body. The creature, a female, was a proud one. It thought it had somehow gamed the system, receiving the food of those saddled, but otherwise free. It simply assisted this pale tall-one because it sometimes wanted to. It had no idea this was because Moira could feel it anywhere within its range and call it to her side when she had need. The other Nikto thought Moira cruel for not naming her mount, but it was simply because she had seen other blurrgs through its eyes. They did not name themselves or others. So Moira's blurrg remained unnamed.

She relaxed, too exhausted to even use her mechanical bow to hunt small creatures the blurrg road past. Instead, she focused on how the blurrg saw the world, its own input, as it chose the path- just with a nudge telling it its goal was the Nikto encampment. 

* * *

Moira walked down the steps into the cool and humid hydroponics building, desperately grabbing a leather flask of fresh water that had been left on a table in anticipation of her return as the sun began to set. She drank her fill as the water rejuvenated her throat. She closed her eyes, and basked in the bliss for a moment. 

Alright, now it was time to check in on Grogu. The clan practiced communal parenting, but Grogu was mainly her responsibility (in addition to managing the hydroponics). Still, once Qinar got the pram working it would be a lot easier to trade off watching him. 

Moira pushed aside a curtain that divided the purple-uv lit hydroponics from a section of the building she had claimed for her quarters. By the humidity in the air and the flavor of the Force, it still felt like the hydroponics building. But it was lit by a regular plasma lantern suspended by a chain from the ceiling.

Grogu chirped when she entered. His side of the room was occupied by a small nest of blankets and a handful of figurines made from clay, twisted wires, or cloth that served as his toys, as well as the orb he had taken from the temple. It was opposite of Moira's own larger bed/nest, which she chose to arrange in a way that she had to sleep curled up. Beside that lay three datapads and a holoprojector (taken from the _Truthseeker II_ ). One of the devices was a general purpose datapad, one was a databook of the Archive's natural history encyclopedia, and the third was Kostana's own journal. They fascinated Moira, and she spent any time she wasn't overseeing the hydroponics or being pulled into another odd job reading them. 

Moira opened a sealed pouch on her and tossed a still living frog at Grogu's feet. The confused thing hopped a few times, before Grogu pounced on it, swallowing it whole. She smiled to herself. No matter how many times she saw this, it always filled her with pride. Moira had caught Grogu stealing raw frog meat from the kitchen shortly after they first arrived. But it seemed like his species handled it just fine, and Moira began to wonder if perhaps she could train Grogu to eat the frogs as they still lived. He was large enough, and just like with his toys, if it began to fight back from within the youngling's body, Moira could always extract it using the Force. It took her stomaching live frogs herself for two weeks, but she eventually managed to teach Grogu that he could eat still living animals. Moira didn't fully understand why she did such a thing. If anything, it was just to prove she could.

She joined Grogu on the floor and sat on her knees across from him. Moira picked up one of his toys, a rag doll, and held it up by her head. "Grogu," she said, as patient as she could manage, "I want you to use the Force. You remember how to do that? Visualize the doll moving through the air, stretch out your hand and your mind and shift the Force around the doll to bring it to you. I've seen you do this at the Temple, I know you can."

Grogu just started up at Moira, as if he was too young to understand Basic.

Moira responded by switching from lightly holding the doll between her fingers to laying it out on her palm and bringing it just out of Grogu's reach. "Look, you just have to bring it to you. It's safe now. You did a really good job hiding back at the Temple, but you don't have to anymore. See?" She casually held out her free hand behind her as she called the datapad from the top of the stack to her from across the small alcove. 

Grogu turned back to his toys and acted out a silent scene with those who remained. No matter how Moira urged him, he would make no display of his power. And his own signature in the Force remained faint, even as he clearly wasn't in a Force Conceal induced hibernation. That made communication an ordeal. Grogu never spoke, but she remembered that he would often communicate nonverbally through the Force. She had no idea if this was typical for his species development, no HoloNet encyclopedia or Kostana's archive encyclopedia had any information on them. Perhaps it was his own variation, or verbal communication wasn't Grogu's species strong suit. That would explain why Master Yoda spoke the way he did and Yaddle was so taciturn. 

No matter. Moira mindlessly slipped the doll into a pouch on her belt. She was excited to continue reading Kostana's treatise on Sith Warbeasts. She shifted over to her own nest and reclined. After spending a whole day outside, she needed to relax- _kriff kriff kriff!_

The datapad displayed the error message: “ _Internal systems contaminated by forgein particles”_ instead of Kostana's journal. Sand, it was always sand. She hated sand, it was course, and rough, and irritating. And it got everywhere, despite how she made sure her stuff didn’t leave her room. Arvala wasn't the kind of desert planet that had rolling dunes, but the cracked dirt underneath was still just a bunch of sand put together. It was invasive. Moira had never felt free of it since her first arrival in the storm. Water was too precious, the clan only had sonic showers. How did Qinar manage it when it ruined her inventions? 

Moisture farm equipment was always properly sealed, but it was rare that anything else was. It didn't bother anyone else, but somehow, illogically, sand invaded where it shouldn't. 

Moira pulled herself out of her nest. She'd have to go to Qinar, borrow her driver. At least she could use shifting sands telekinesis to clear the circuitry.

But once she started thinking about what she hated about Arvala, she couldn’t stop thinking about what else she hated about living here. It had nothing to do with the mundanity or the isolation. It was not the clan's fault. It had everything to do with the environment. The heat and the dryness sapped her strength, while the sand eroded her soul. But she could have endured that if the Force was nourishing her.

But Arvala's Force signature was so empty. No, she hadn't stumbled upon Nathema, the mythical planet that was a dead spot in the Force. The Force was here, but there was no Dark Side corruption. The natural balance was embarrassingly simple. Arvala was neither overgrown with life nor empty. Coruscant was endlessly fascinating, contradictions, suffering, joy, deception, struggle, light, and dark all swirling together. The upper and the lower levels forming two planets in one, as the Sith and the Jedi temples staked their claims. Alderaan wasn't intriguing, but it gleamed. Devaron flowed with the conflict of life. Naboo struggled to find its balance. Every planet Moira had ever stepped foot on was unique in the Force, even if it sometimes seemed like she was the only one who could sense that if there wasn't a Dark Side site bombarding even the slightly sensitive. But Arvala, well it was so perfectly average. If one were to attempt to catalogue the flavor of the Force on each planet, you would describe it in relationship to Arvala. It would be your hydrogen. 

And she just couldn't stay here. Moira could barely handle a few months. The rest of her life? That filled her with a dread she didn't dare to confront. She just needed to get out of here. 

Despite closing himself to the Force, Grogu must have sensed Moira's distress bubble to the surface. He had crawled over to her, and began to tug the hem of her skirt.

"Oh Grogu." Love pushed back Moira's pain, just for a moment. She bent down and picked the youngling up. "You don't hate this place, do you? Wherever I go, it's gonna be scary. You don't want that." She carried Grogu with her through the compound to the central building, unbothered by the cold of a desert evening. She entered the hall where she had first met the clan. Some people had already gathered for dinner, while others prepared the food or continued to work on other projects. 

Denari was lecturing their ten year old child about where it was acceptable to roughhouse when Moira found them. Moira prepared herself to silently wait, but her presence must have made Denari realize the futility of their task. Instead, they sent their son to go help in the kitchen with his mother.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Moira," Denari began.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," Moira replied.

"Oh please don't tell me he did something else."

"What? Your son? No, nothing like that. I meant your child-rearing skills."

"I'm happy to give advice about Grogu," Denari patted the child's head as they spoke. "I've always admired you for remaining his primary caretaker. Eighteen is young to be a mom as a human, right?"

Moira chuckled. "He's actually older than me. It's that I'm planning to leave soon, and I was wondering if you'd be willing to take over. You've always helped out, and you're the being I most trust." She just needed to get straight to the point, lest Denari lead her down more tangents. 

"Well, this is a surprise. I mean, of course. Is it _the Empire?_ " They whispered their name like it could summon Star Destroyers.

"Unfortunately," Moira lied, to embarrassed to reveal her selfish reasons and lose the Nikto's respect. There was no way she could use words to explain how it was also self preservation. "I've picked up some concerning transmissions. I think it would be best if I go away for... well, I don't think I'll ever be able to come back, even if things go well. But I can lure them off his tail, protect Grogu and the clan."

Denari nodded. "We're all going to miss you Moira. But it is what must be done. _Tilktak som alle tilkgores, alle valke ars._ " Desperate times call for desperate measures, for the good of all.

Moira handed Grogu to Denari, who accepted. She ignored Grogu reaching out to her, as she walked towards the Elder's quarters. 

* * *

Kinovan sighed. He opened his eyes and unsteepled his fingers as Moira finished explaining her plan. He sat cross-legged on a mat. While he had hoped it would be his meditation mat, it ended up being where he received requests before bringing them to a meeting or giving advice. The tools of his leadership- datajournals and even some flimispast scrolls were arranged around it. "Are you sure leaving is the best course of action? The Empire has declared that all Jedi, regardless of age, are enemies of the state. Surely they would still target Grogu? Wouldn't it be better if you were still here to defend him? Especially if the transmissions you intercepted indicated they might be coming to Arvala soon."

Moira gulped. There was always something unnerving about Kinovan. The way he carried himself, well it was like a Jedi. And spoke with precision and insightfulness. Yet there was always the implication of how he had fought to bring his people to this place. If anyone would see through her lies, it would be him. 

_And what if he did?_ A part of Moira wondered. These were escaped slaves, they wouldn't force her to stay with them. And Grogu was part of the clan, they wouldn't abandon him for her selfishness.

 _They would think you a coward._ Yes, that was it.

"The transmissions I intercepted were regarding an invasion of Hutt Space. Arvala will probably still be overlooked, but the Empire will establish a presence on places like Tatooine. I was there when the Jedi Temple was attacked, the Emperor commands users of the Dark Side of the Force. They'll be able to sense my presence from a system over, now that there are barely any Jedi left. But Grogu, he's locked down his powers, so they won't be able to sense him. I'm too old to do that, it's an instinctual response. If I keep moving, I won't bring the Empire's wrath down on you. And Grogu will have somewhere stable to grow up."

"Not even the Republic was able to dislodge the Hutts," Kinovan mused, almost to himself, "Why would the Empire attempt such a thing, especially so soon?"

"I don't know," Moira tried to backpedal, hoping she wouldn't get the facts wrong. She could lie about the Jedi and the Force all she wanted, weaving in some truth to strengthen the story, but Kinovan knew the Hutts. While she didn't pay attention in Galactic Politics, and if she said something obviously wrong the whole story would fall apart. "Maybe they just want to make it clear that they're now one hundred percent a criminal syndicate and zero percent a legitimate government? Maybe they want to make them tributaries? All I know is that there are Star Destroyers coming to this part of the Outer Rim and they intended to stay."

That seemed to satisfy Kinovan, as he only gave a simple nod of acknowledgement before changing the subject. "And the hydroponics? Our yields have improved greatly with your help, but this system of yours still requires proper adjustment."

"Qinar knows my system better than anyone else. I haven't discussed it with her, but she has the mind for it. Botany is just slower and more temperamental engineering. She'll complete all the cycles that I haven't been able to figure out."

"She has been spending so much time on her own projects that I'm sure she's taught the moisture farmers how to handle most of their own problems. And Grogu?"

"Denari has agreed to take care of him. But he's over twenty and I have no idea how long he'll be a youngling for. They might want to arrange a successor." 

Kinovan actually chuckled at that, of all things. "Well, Nim can trade again, and the loss of one hunter doesn't mean much. Although I'd prefer it if you could leave your bow."

"I only plan to take the clothes I'm wearing now and the stuff I've taken from my ship. You don't need to worry about it."

"In which case, it grieves me to see you go Moira. But remember, you will always be one of us, no matter where you go. You are of the Kajain'neo'tah Clan until your breath returns to the wind. You shall be our wandering daughter. Grogu will remain one of us. If the Empire does come for him, we shall defend him with our lives."

* * *

From Arvala's orbit, Moira accessed the _Truthseeker II's_ holoreciever messages. She had noticed that it contained three messages, instead of just two. But something didn't feel right about opening it while in the encapment's makeshift spaceyard. Moira knew what the first two were. They both came from the Jedi Temple beacon. One was the generic rally to the temple call, the next was a message from Obi-Wan Kenobi letting Jedi know that the Republic and Order had fallen, and to avoid the Temple. It was naïve, for even as it smartly told surviving Jedi to scatter and hide, it also told them to trust in the same Force that allowed this to happen. Moira got the first, an obvious trap, during the trip to Arvala. The second came when she and other Nikto were gathering supplies from the ship. It did mean that the HoloNet saw the _Truthseeke_ r as a Jedi vessel, but Qinar explained that you can't find someone's location just by having them receive a holomessage. It's sent out with as broad physical directions your tech can manage, and any valid receivers can pick it up.

She hoped no one had come up with something Qinar wasn't aware of when they sent the third message. The sender was only identified as coming from the Jedi Temple communications center. Moira pressed play.

She gasped as she saw the figure before her. He looked very different, but here was Master Numon. He now wore dark armor and his pink face markings had been painted what she assumed was red, and there was a new set of markings on his forehead. His ear caps likewise matched his armor instead of his skin. And it was hard to tell, but she was almost certain that his once silver eyes were now a blazing orange.

" _Moira, I do hope you are well and that you receive this message. I apologize that I was unable to tell you the whole truth. But it was because of my actions that a few of the guards were spared the devastation that befell the Order. We are now servants of the Emperor himself. Our powers are no longer bound by the fetters the Jedi once placed upon us. I know how much you strained against their chains. Although you disobeyed me, the Emperor has granted you another chance. But this is a mercy you will only be granted if you turn yourself in. If you are found by his forces before that, then there is nothing I can do. Please, make the smart decision. I do not want to have to hunt you. The Emperor is very interested in meeting you. An emissary will meet you on the planet Mustafar, by the name of Wullf Yularen._ " 

Moira set the location on the navicomputer. She finally knew where to go, and things finally would get _interesting_ again.

* * *

The First Sister stood in her new quarters in the Inquisitorius headquarters on Coruscant. Laid out before her was a black bodysuit and a few pieces of armor. Numon- no- her Master- no the Grand Inquisitor told her to change and leave her old clothes for the LEP droids who served the Inquisitors to incinerate. There were still the matter of her helmet, but those were better than the masks of the Temple Guards. Hers would be customized to her own design, within the aesthetic of the group, and the faceplate would be retractable. She unclipped her belt and placed it on the same accent cabinet her new clothes sat upon.

As she stripped her old clothes off, it felt like she was finally removing the sand and stagnation that had invaded her life. With that freedom, she didn't feel the pain that came with the snapping the bonds and the loving and peaceful life it also represented. 

Once she had her new outfit on (still, she'd like to make some changes), she regarded her old belt. She had noticed that the Grand Inquisitor had a new lightsaber, a saberstaff with a ring around it, when she'd met him. But even if the process of her obtaining her own red blade didn't require the cannibalization of her own lightsaber, she would not surrender it so easily. She affixed the cylinder to the lightsaber holder, the only attachment on the subtle belt of her new uniform. Moira almost tossed the belt to the floor, for releasing she should probably check to make sure there wasn't anything of the slightest value, like a tool or datachip left inside. 

As the First Sister expected, she'd left everything with the clan as she promised, wait... except for Grogu's doll. She gingerly unfolded the rag doll from the tiny pouch. It looked so fragile in her hands. She'd taken it from him because he wouldn't use the Force, and then she just forgot about it. Now she was here, because of her own ambition. While Grogu was content. At least she hoped he wouldn't miss it much. 

Moira wiped the tears that had begun to form at the corners of her eyes. If she was going to protect Grogu, in a way that wouldn’t drive her to madness, she'd do it by making sure the Inquistorous didn't look too hard for him, or at least searched in the wrong places. 

Emperor Palpatine, he was a Sith Lord. She couldn't gamble on him being bad at mind reading, now that he no longer had to hide his impression in the Force. This would have to be the last time the First Sister could allow herself to feel emotions about Grogu. If she was going to think about him in the future, it must only be because of schemes to protect him.

That would make the smart thing to throw the doll away, maybe put it back in the belt pouch. But what if the droids searched the clothes before incinerating them? The only lie she could come up with then would be that it was a gift from a child from the clan. Surely the _Truthseeker II_ was searched by whatever Republic Intelligence was called these days as soon as she had left in Yularen's shuttle. They'd know she had been on Arvaala this whole time. If the First Sister was asked about where she had been, the only lie in her story would be about how she didn't care about the clan. She could say she bought supplies off them and lived as a hermit. But with the doll as evidence, that would be impossible.

(Deep down, the First Sister knew that this scenario was outlandish. She couldn't admit it, but it was just an excuse to get to keep a tangible connection to Grogu and the clan.)

Decided, the First Sister used the Force to break a thread and extract part of it from the belt. She placed the doll, its arms crossed over its chest in respite, inside the curve of the belt. Then she tied the best knot she could, the detail work causing beads of sweat to form on her brow, using the thread. That would do for now, but she would have to incorporate a way to keep the doll with her into her custom uniform.

The First Sister took a calming breath and faced the door to her quarters. It was time to meet the other Inquisitors. She wouldn't flinch, wouldn't let them use this apparent lapse to intimidate her. Whatever the Grand Inquisitor or the Emperor asked of her, she would do, but they would not control her.

* * *

When the First Sister designed her own outfit, the doll was entombed by a patch of fabric inside the shirt next to her heart. 

Years passed, her power grew and her reservations declined.

When she prepared to give her Inquisitor uniform a sea burial, she once again felt the bulge that had become invisible from familiarity, and remembered what she had long forgotten. She tore the threads with a single swipe of the Force. The long enclosed thing felt as vulnerable as she did in those days, but soon as a kitchen woman she hung it openly from her belt. Most took it to be some kind of charm instead of a child's toy.

Soon her son, Tag was born, and she gave it to him. She never spoke on where it came from, even in the vaguest of terms. He played with it, but he much preferred his clone trooper set, with their superior articulation even, when he wasn't playing war.

The night the bounty hunter came, Tag left the doll behind with the rest of his toys in an attempt to look brave.

A few days after the siege of Arkanis ended, the fisherman Kathis Num decided to check in on the fisherwoman the locals called the vithca woman. He’d never spoken with her. If anything, she creeped him out. She was a stranger to the rest of the anglers, and from what he saw of her methods, she should have died years ago. He went to her house, and didn't find anyone, not even her son. He gave it a few more days, and talked it over with the rest of his friends. They all decided that the woman's hubris had finally gotten to her, bringing her son down with her. She must have tried to go fishing in that storm on the last day of the siege. By custom all of her possessions and eventually her empty house were to be sold off on behalf of the community fund. And most of the organizing was Kathis’ job.

The toys all went eventually, all except for the doll. Out of pity, Kathis gave it to a little girl whose mom was counting credits just to get some of the most mundane of items cheap. As they left, he made a mental note to see if they could get something from the community fund.

* * *

Grogu sat on Tython's Seeing Stone. He last saw his father walking around the stone, trying to figure out how to turn it on, before it was replaced with a collection of lights, as if he was looking up at space. Except there were far too little stars, like it was the end of time. The brightest of the stars he knew was Ahsoka.

But there was another star he recognized, it was dim, but it was due to something blocking his perception. The star was twisted from how he remembered Moira, but it was her. She'd be so excited to find out that he could use the Force again!

He touched the star with his mind, but was intercepted by something else.

(We cannot let you do that.)

 _Who are you?_ Grogu was surprised at the ease at which he was able to communicate telepathically using words instead of memories through the stone.

(We cannot tell you that either, you are one of few fully living beings to ever speak with one of our kind. We do not make that decision lightly.) The being was old and powerful, like what Grogu sensed when he connected with Ahsoka. But that Light Within brought comfort to Grogu, while this being scared him.

_Please, I want to talk to Moira. She knows me. I need to find someone to train me to be a Jedi._

(The witch must not be disturbed. She must complete her metamorphosis/decomposition.)

Grogu was worried. Out of all the stars that remained, very few of them were Jedi. Most were so dim that they could probably only receive his message. But he knew Moira. Moira would let him stay with his father. He wouldn't have to choose between the paths like Ahsoka said he must.

(Do not despair, little one. You are long lived, and you two shall meet again. We promise.)

With that, the connection was severed. Perhaps there were more options, outside of the range of the seeing stone. But Grogu only had what was right in front of him. After a few responses of either having the recipient slam their mental barriers down on him or explain that they were not strong enough in the Force, Grogu turned to the nomadic star he had been trying to avoid. There was something about this one. Somehow Grogu knew that while they would train him, they were inexperienced and yet also inflexible. But how else would he learn how to become strong enough to protect his father?

_I'm Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master. Of course I'll train you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention this last time, the reason why the encampment has a landing platform it doesn't in the Mandalorian is that the clan destroyed it so the bounty hunters after Grogu couldn't land right in front of them when they started arriving. This fic is set shortly after the Inquisitors are introduced in the Darth Vader (2017) comics, explaining Moira's absence. The rest of her absences from Inquisitor group meetings is her rebelliousness. The Nikto is inspired by google translated Norwegian. 
> 
> There was originally going to be an epilogue chapter, but I can't really make it work, at least not without season 3 adding anything to it. And the ending with Grogu on the seeing stone works as a fic ending. 
> 
> Thank you to PermianTropos for betaing it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Tropos/PermianExtinction for betaing this fic.
> 
> Moira being a Temple Guard and her Master being the Grand Inquisitor (Tirul Numon) comes from Tropos. There’s also a vague idea of that Moira being good at sensing is how the GI joins Palpatine before Order 66. I came up with the details. The reason why he joined Palpatine, in my mind, based on how he also wants archive access, is that he wanted to be able to study the artifacts instead of the Jedi just putting them in the Bogan Collection. That was when Palpatine convinced him to join him. Moira’s first brush with the Dark Side being her killing some innocents in the lower levels and the GI blackmailing her with that is also a Tropos idea, while the attempted excavation of the Sith Shrine is an idea of mine that is still nebulously troposverse canon. Other than that throwaway line, the rest of the fic is essentially canon to the Tropos verse. So yes, Armitage Hux and Grogu are almost adoptive siblings.
> 
> The scene with Kyrian exists to resolve how despite author statements about the GI luring away all of the Temple Guards, Force Collector features the mask of a Temple Guard who was killed by Anakin the way I depicted. Leen Kostana is a character from the Dooku Lost audio drama. Where she is during the Clone Wars is ambiguous, and I don’t want to confirm her as dead in my personal canon, hence the ambiguity. Numon taking Moira on missions to investigate ruins is another piece of Tropos lore, and I felt that because of it, Numon and Kostana would be friends. Her ship, the Truthseeker, is destroyed in the course of the story, but that was a fact that I only caught late in the editing process.
> 
> Finally, lifegeld is the reverse of the Germanic concept of weregeld. Weregeld is a payment someone makes to the family of someone they killed (through murder or manslaughter) to prevent a blood feud. I thought being able to pay a Nikto clan into adopting you was an interesting idea. The general feel I went with for Nikto culture was ancient germanic/medieval Scandinavian but calibrated for a desert climate. And for these specific Nikto, a dash of leftist commune. The next chapter will explore why Moira didn’t remain with them for long.


End file.
